


Sleeping Witcher

by SailorChibi



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e06 Rare Species, Fairy Tales, First Kiss, Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion Saves the Day, Jaskier | Dandelion deserves a damn break, Jaskier | Dandelion gets a hug, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sleeping Beauty Elements, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Yennefer wonders what she has done to deserve these two idiots, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg is So Done, yes I'm jumping on the fix-it bandwagon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: Even after Geralt pushed him out of his life, Jaskier can't resist helping him. Even if it breaks his heart in the process.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 46
Kudos: 1070





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom; I don't know anything about the video games or books, so this is based solely on the Netflix TV show and what few details I've gleaned from fandom. Should have one more, maybe two, chapter(s).

Callused fingers strummed lightly over the strings, then paused. Jaskier cocked his head and frowned, tapping his foot against the muddy ground. He tried again, humming softly under his breath, before sighing. He set his lute down, taking care to make sure that it was well within the confines of the cave and therefore protected from the rain, before leaning back against the cold stone.

New songs could take time to craft, but this was getting ridiculous. There was a melody playing in his head, but he was struggling to replicate it with his lute, and he didn’t know why. This particular melody had been getting the better of him for a fortnight, and he had past the point of frustrated two nights ago. He was tired of words dancing through his mind while he slept, only to dissolve on the wind when his eyes opened.

He closed his eyes, the better to imagine the elusive words, and so felt more than saw the displacement of air. His eyes snapped open and he let out a strangled shout at the sight of another body in the cave. Jaskier scrambled to his feet, uncertain as to whether he should be more or less alarmed when he recognized the intruder as Yennefer. She smiled when their eyes met, and that tipped the scales rather firmly in the direction of _more_.

“I’ve been searching for you,” Yennefer announced. “You’re surprisingly difficult to find. Why is that?”

“Luck?” Jaskier said, glancing at the exit. She was standing between him and freedom, of course she was.

“I’m sure it’s more than that,” Yennefer murmured, her eyes sharpening. She was wearing a dark purple cloak over her clothing, and it made the eerie color of her eyes pop. Jaskier’s heart started to pound.

“Right, well, if you’re looking for Geralt, he’s not here. So you can… you know… move along,” he said with false brightness, gesturing to the mouth of the cave.

“I know he’s not here. That’s why I’m here,” she said.

“You mean you were looking for _me_?” Jaskier said, somewhere between astonishment and dread. “ _Why_?!”

“Geralt needs you,” Yennefer said, as though that explained everything. Jaskier drew himself up and scoffed.

“Clearly, you’ve found the wrong bard,” he said quietly, trying not to think about that day on the mountain. It had been just shy of two months and the memory was as fresh as though it had happened two hours ago. He was tired of being the fool. He turned away from her, bending down to pick up his lute. To hell with everything else. If he could make it past Yennefer with his lute, he could perform shows and earn coin to replace the rest –

“He’s dying.”

Those two words made Jaskier freeze. He straightened up again, staring at her. “What?”

Yennefer sighed and wrapped her arms around her waist. Had she been anyone else, Jaskier would have said that she looked worried. She said, “Geralt has been cursed and we don’t know how to reverse it. Unless the curse is lifted, he’ll sleep until he wastes away. Nothing we’ve done has made a difference. Even trying to give him sustenance hasn’t worked.”

It took effort not to have a physical reaction. All Jaskier allowed himself was a single exhale before he whispered, “What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” she said impatiently. “He went to get rid of a pest and got himself cursed. Only true love’s kiss can break it.”

Jaskier blinked.

“Well?” Yennefer demanded.

“Sorry, I’m just still not sure what you’re doing here,” Jaskier said, still blinking. He hadn’t thought magic was capable of affecting a Witcher, but then again Geralt had fallen prey to the djinn’s magic. Whatever it was that had cursed him must have been powerful indeed. 

“Seriously?” Yennefer said, looking at him like he was an idiot. “You love Geralt, you dolt.”

“I don’t – that’s not – how dare you – I’ve never –” Jaskier sputtered. 

She rolled her eyes. “No wonder the two of you have never got anywhere,” she muttered.

“Well – well you love him too!” Jaskier said, which, honestly, was not one of his best retorts, but he thought he could be forgiven under the circumstances.

Yennefer’s eyes flashed. “My feelings are the result of a wish. I can’t be sure they’re real,” she said coldly. “Your feelings are not manufactured. They are real and honest. You are probably the only person right now who can say they love Geralt of Riveria.”

That gave Jaskier pause, but only for a moment. He shook his head. “Even if I did love him, and I’m not saying that I do, it wouldn’t work. Geralt made it clear that he feels nothing for me.” He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, not wanting to give away just how much that hurt.

“So you won’t even try?” Yennefer asked. “You would leave him to die after all the times he saved your life?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Because damn it all, she was _right_. He couldn’t in good conscience ignore a friend in need, even if that friend had made their feelings towards Jaskier quite clear. As maddening as Geralt could be, Jaskier wouldn’t be here right now were it not for Geralt’s excellent timing. His shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh.

“Very well, but when I fail –”

“Yes, yes,” Yennefer said, even though he hadn’t finished his sentence. “Let’s go already.” She did something complicated with her hands and a thin shudder ran down Jaskier’s spine. A portal formed just outside the cave; through it, Jaskier could see a candle-lit room. He stooped down to grab both his lute and his pack before following her through. 

Warmth washed over him as the portal closed behind them, dispelling the worst of the chill that had been brought on by an early autumn storm. Jaskier shivered even as he glanced around, gaze skating over the fireplace and the pot within to land on the bed in the corner. His stomach twisted at the sight of solitary figure laying on the bed, face as pale as his white hair. 

“How long has it been?” he asked in a whisper.

“So far as I can tell? At least a week,” Yennefer said, her expression set. “Word spread quickly of a cursed Witcher, but it still took me some time to determine that it was actually Geralt and then to safely bring him here.”

A week. While Jaskier had been cavorting around inns, Geralt had been like this: still and silent and, at first glance, easily mistaken for a corpse. Jaskier had often thought to himself that Geralt showed too little emotion, but now he knew he’d been foolish. Geralt’s reactions may have been subdued for the most part, but they were all too real. The man on the bed was barely recognizable as the Witcher that Jaskier had followed for more than decade. 

He set his things down and moved closer to the bed, where he paused. He could feel Yennefer staring at him expectantly. Jaskier was not prone to stage fright, but he could feel it now. If he kissed Geralt and nothing happened, chances were high that Geralt would die. He was not sure that was something he wanted on his conscience, particularly since he couldn’t be sure how Yennefer would react – if she blamed him for not saving Geralt, there wouldn’t be much that Jaskier could do to protect himself against her.

But he also couldn’t _not_ try. It was an impossible situation and Jaskier sighed as he rested a hand on the bed. This was the closest he had been to Geralt in a very long time. But the thought of how Geralt would’ve reacted had he been awake made Jaskier’s stomach twist, and he leaned back slightly to look at Geralt’s too-peaceful face again. After a pause, he turned to Yennefer.

“Don’t tell him it was me,” he said softly.

Yennefer looked like she wanted to protest - but shockingly, she didn’t. Just nodded.

Jaskier supposed that was as good as he was going to get. He slid one knee onto the mattress and bent down, pressing his lips to Geralt’s before he could chicken out. He stayed there a moment, frozen, hoping something would happen – even Geralt’s eyes snapping open and another blow to the stomach that made Jaskier want to hurl would’ve been welcome. Instead, all Jaskier learned was how deeply unappealing and creepy it was to kiss someone who was incapable of kissing you back. He drew back, disappointed.

And then Geralt sighed.

“It worked!” Yennefer said, appearing directly beside the bed as though by magic and scaring several years of Jaskier’s life in the process. He leapt off the bed and scrambled away as she bent over Geralt.

Once he’d put some distance between them, he looked back and realized that she was right. Geralt’s chest was rising and falling with more force now, instead of the slow movement from before. His eyelids were moving, usually a sign of someone who was dreaming. Yennefer set her hand on the curve of Geralt’s cheek, and Jaskier was suddenly very glad that she was not looking at him because the tender touch made him _ache_.

“Well, if that’s all you needed,” he said hoarsely, gathering his lute and pack up with trembling hands. 

“Will you not stay?” Yennefer asked, very quietly.

“No.” Jaskier couldn’t look at them any longer. He had just gone and proven that he was, indeed, in love with Geralt of Riveria, after trying to ignore that tidbit of information for the better part of two decades. Here, where Geralt was sure to wake up and assume Yennefer had been the one to awaken him and have mad, passionate sex with her in gratitude, was not where Jaskier wanted to be.

Yennefer sighed. “Very well.” 

A portal formed right in front of Jaskier; normally he would’ve had some apprehensions about blithely walking through, but right now he wanted to be anywhere else. He stepped through and found himself standing in a field. Down below, the lights of a village twinkled through the trees: probably no more than a short walk. In this, at least, Yennefer had been kind.

Too bad more people were the last thing Jaskier wanted right now. He sat down where he stood, cradling his lute in his lap, and finally allowed himself to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the brief pause in the general good humor of the room that alerted Jaskier to the fact that Yennefer had stepped into the tavern. Though he didn’t know that at first, as he was preoccupied with entertaining the other patrons: the bartender had promised him room and a plate of food for the night if he could cheer people up, and Jaskier was nothing if not skilled at spreading cheer – even if he couldn’t embue it in himself.

But as he trailed off, the last of the lute’s sweet sound lingering, he realized that a handful of men weren’t watching him. Curious, he followed their collective gazes and froze when he saw what they were looking at. Of course his music couldn’t compare to the stunning woman wearing a tight black dress that was purposely low-cut. Most of them men looked like they’d been slapped upside the head with a raw fish as Yennefer sauntered past, hips swaying.

“What do you want?” Jaskier said rudely, tucking his lute against his side. He’d been singing for upwards of three hours now; he supposed that was long enough. He’d take his plate and go hide in his room for the rest of the night.

“Why, to pay my compliments to the bard, of course,” Yennefer said. “I hear the Witcher’s Bard is quite skilled.”

Jaskier kept himself from flinching only by virtue of the fact that those purple eyes saw _everything_ , and instead forced a smile. “That I am.”

He refused to comment on the nickname that seemed to accompany him everywhere now. His songs about Geralt were the most popular by far, much to his chagrin. Yet he also couldn’t bring himself to refuse to sing them: Geralt deserved to have his deeds known. He did so much for so many, but no one knew about it except for Jaskier. If he could change even one person’s mind about Geralt, then by god no matter how much it hurt Jaskier would continue to sing about those tales.

Yennefer studied his face for a moment before her expression softened. “You know, they call it true love’s kiss for a reason,” she said.

“I know,” Jaskier said crossly, because couldn’t she leave well enough alone? He started to turn away.

“It’s because it only works if _both_ parties feel the same way.”

Her words stopped him cold.

“Funny thing about love, that,” Yennefer said, adopting a casual tone as she swept around him and stood squarely in his path. “It’s always strongest when it’s reciprocated.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared expectantly at Jaskier. At any other time, Jaskier might have appreciated the way her stance was pushing her ample bosom practically into his chin. Right now, he was rather distracted by shaking his head.

“Nice try. Not sure what game you’re playing, but I’m not buying,” he said. “Geralt doesn’t love me.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Yennefer replied. “But if you don’t believe, perhaps you’ll believe _him_.”

A tingle ran up the back of Jaskier’s spine, and he knew without looking that Geralt was standing right behind him. He thought briefly about making a run for it, but decided against it. Not because he knew he wouldn’t get far, but because the look on Yennefer’s face strongly suggested that he would be cursed before he made it more than a handful of steps.

“Jaskier. Can we talk?”

“ _You_ want to talk?” Jaskier said, perhaps a bit meanly, but also surprised as he turned around to look at Geralt. In spite of everything, his traitorous heart was relieved to see Geralt upright. He’d known that Geralt would be fine when he left before, but it was still something altogether different to _see_ it.

Geralt looked at him steadily and, as per usual, said nothing. But he did incline his head towards the stairs, and when he turned away he lingered for a beat. It was as much of an invitation as Jaskier was ever going to get. Against his better judgment, he followed. They mounted the stairs to the hall above, where Geralt walked to the end and opened up the door. Jaskier stepped inside, belatedly realizing that Yennefer hadn’t accompanied them, and watched as Geralt closed the door.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, softly but with intent, and Jaskier froze again.

“You – what?” he said at last, positive that his ears were playing tricks on him.

“I was upset and angry with the world and I took it out on you,” Geralt continued. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jaskier stared at him for a moment. Finally, he said, “You’re right. I didn’t. I didn’t deserve any of it, Geralt. All those years we traveled together, you barely spoke to me. You never once acknowledged that we were friends… if we even are.”

“Of course we are,” Geralt said immediately.

“I don’t know if I agree with that. I mean…” Jaskier turned away and began to pace. “Most friends know something about each other. They like to talk to each other. I get that talking is hard for you and I appreciate that, but we went literally _days_ where you spoke to Roach more than you did to me! Is it really too much to ask for more than a grunt here or there?”

“No,” Geralt whispered.

“And this whole thing with you and Yennefer, I told you that it wouldn’t turn out well! But you ignored me, and that’s your perogative, but somehow – somehow, Geralt, I always seem to be the one who ends up getting hurt.” Jaskier paused, clenching his hands to fists. Weeks of poorly repressed emotion welled up in his chest, until his voice was shaking with the sheer effort of not breaking.

“I care about you. You’re my friend. I was willing to let a lot slide, because I know things have been terrible for you and the last thing I want is to make things harder still… but I can’t do that anymore.” To his horror, a tear ran down his cheek. “Because even when I try to make you happy by giving you what you want, it’s still not enough. So tell me, Geralt, what the hell do I have to do to make you happy?”

He stiffened when arms wrapped around him from behind. They had been close before, of course, but never quite like this. Jaskier didn’t know what to do or even think as Geralt’s chin hooked over his shoulder. 

“Being with you, like this, makes me happy.” Geralt’s voice wouldn’t have been audible had their faces not been so close. “I was a fool. An idiot. And I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize every day for the rest of my life if you’ll only give me the chance.”

Jaskier closed his burning eyes, swallowing. “That would be a lot of apologies,” he said shakily, bearing in mind just how long a Witcher could live.

“It would be worth it,” Gerald replied. “Jasker… I have always pushed people away. You were the first person who was stubborn enough to stay anyway. _You_ are a blessing. The best thing that’s ever come into my life.”

For a moment, Jaskier was speechless. He had waited for a very long time to hear that, and now that he had he didn’t know how to respond. The sincerity in Geralt’s voice couldn’t be denied any more than it could be ignored. He thought again about what Yennefer had said about a true love’s kiss only working if it went both ways. Perhaps she hadn’t been lying after all.

“Flatterer,” he mumbled at last. “It has to be different, Geralt. I mean it. I can’t go back to how it was before. You don’t have to change who you are, but you do have to be cognizant of the fact that I’m a person too.”

“I will be, I promise,” Geralt said. “I’ll prove it to you… if you’ll only travel with me again.”

Jaskier turned around within the circle of Geralt’s arms. “You only want me for my lips in case you get cursed again,” he said.

Geralt shook his head, a fierce look in his golden eyes. “Not at all. I want your voice, your kindness, your company,” he said. “And… perhaps your lips, though not for sorcery.”

“No?” Jaskier breathed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but somehow they were kissing. It was passionate and heady and made his head reel; he flung his arms around Geralt’s neck and gave himself over.

The next morning Yennefer laughed at him when she saw the obvious marks that dotted Jaskier’s throat, but Jaskier merely smiled back at her and winked.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/)!


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